Corrupted Throne

The fog hung low.

Blood soaked into the gravel.

Rhett's body lay still… eyes wide, mouth frozen in a last breath of defiance.

A long silence followed—until one of the masked assassins exhaled.

"Damn," he muttered, yanking off his mask. Sweat clung to his brow.

"That bastard almost got me," said the other, removing his own mask with a grunt. A scar cut across his chin. "He was strong. Shouldn't have taken us this long."

They both looked up at the rooftop.

The monk still floated above—silent, unmoving, cloaked in ghostly blue energy.

The whistling stopped.

A moment later, it resumed… but the melody changed.

Lower. Slower.

The villagers—blank-faced, obedient—suddenly turned.

Wordless, they moved toward the fallen soldiers. One by one, they lifted the bodies with unnatural calm.

No prayers. No tears.

They carried them beyond the gate, toward the shadow of the mountains.

The assassins watched in silence as the last blood-soaked tunic vanished into the fog.

"That's it," said the scarred one. "Cleanup done."

A while later—

The villagers returned from the burial site.

But they didn't stop to rest.

They walked—marched—toward a cluster of jagged stone near the northern cliffs.

There, hidden among thorns and rubble…

The cave mouths yawned open.

Without hesitation, the villagers entered. Picking up old tools. Lighting torches.

And then—the mining began.

Pickaxes. Shovels. Echoes of metal on stone.

From above, the monk floated… watching silently.

Just then—

A group emerged from behind the hills.

More men.

Dressed in fine cloaks, rings on their fingers, smug grins on their faces.

One of them waddled forward, licking oil off his fingers from a roast bird leg.

He was heavy, red-cheeked, and wore golden embroidery.

"Hohoho~ I see everything's moving smoothly," he said with a wide smile.

The two assassins turned to him and bowed slightly.

"Boss Dango," one said. "Everything's in control. We buried all the soldiers. Not a single trace left behind."

"And the mining?" Dango asked, licking his lips.

"The villagers are already at it. We'll have the first shipment within a week."

"Hehehe… excellent," Dango said, looking toward the caves. "Finally… Hollowveil is useful again."

He glanced at the monk still floating above, who said nothing.

Only his eerie whistle echoed through the cliffs like a ghostly anthem.

"Just keep everything quiet," Dango muttered, face darkening slightly. "If the Fortress finds out we're back here… it's over."

"Understood," the assassins replied in unison.

The monk turned slightly, still whistling… still watching.

Two weeks later

Bastionspire Fortress – Training Grounds

"Ahh, ahh—YEAHHH!"

Duke exploded forward like a comet, fists clenched, boots kicking up gravel behind him.

Drex's eyes snapped wide. Faster than before?!

From behind—

"AHHHH!"

Jack launched in with reckless speed.

"Shit! I can't block that—!"

CRACK.

Jack slammed into Drex's side like a battering ram.

Impact.

Drex staggered backward.

But Duke was already there.

BOOM.

His fist—now glowing an intense, vivid green—smashed into Drex's chest.

The punch wasn't just strong—it carried a visible.

shockwave that cracked the air and rippled across the ground.

Drex was launched, flipping mid-air before crashing and skidding hard across the dirt.

—

At the edge of the training field, Samaira froze, her wooden glaive mid-swing.

Touka's own wooden sword met Samaira's staff with a sharp CRACK, but her focus had already shifted.

Her violet eyes narrowed.

That glow…

Green Kendra Energy… from him?

It's still unstable… but it's there. Clear. Controlled.

He's actually improving…

Touka exhaled slowly, tightening her grip on the wooden hilt.

Samaira blinked. "You good?"

"...Tch. Just surprised."

Back on the field—

Even Jack looked stunned.

"Did you just—DUKE! Did you just use your Kendra Energy?!"

Duke stood there, chest heaving, his green-glowing fists trembling with pulsing light.

"…I'm having better control on it now," he muttered, eyes fixed on his own hands, half in awe.

Drex groaned as he sat up, brushing dust and dirt from his arms.

"So you can use it now…"

With one motion, he yanked off his shirt—revealing a sculpted, scarred, brutally built frame, his torso rippling with power.

"Then I guess I'll use mine too."

Dark blue energy surged up his arms like lightning trapped under his skin.

The air around him shimmered, humming with raw power.

"A-ah! S-sorry!" Duke raised his hands. "I used it by mistake!"

"H-Hey! Now it's 1v1, right?!" Jack shouted, taking a step back.

But Drex didn't care.

He charged like a bull, the ground cracking beneath each step.

Duke dodged left with sharpened instinct, immediately countering with a swift punch—

But Drex caught him.

With one brutal swing, Drex slammed his other fist into Duke's jaw.

SMASH.

Duke was hurled like a ragdoll—

Straight into Jack.

"AHHH—DUUKE!!"

The two crashed to the ground in a heap, coughing, groaning, dust swirling around them.

Jack flopped onto the bench, groaning as he clutched his ribs.

"Man… every day he beats us. I can't take it anymore!"

Duke sat beside him, sweat dripping from his brow.

"Two weeks of hell… We got our asses kicked four times—each!"

He glanced at the medical bay in the distance. "They're starting to recognize us on sight over there."

"Even you took a beating today," Jack muttered, shooting Duke a sideways glare.

"Hahaha!" Drex laughed, standing nearby with his arms crossed. "You two are definitely improving."

"Improving my ass," Jack snapped. "You've been wrecking us like we're practice dummies."

Drex shrugged casually. "Hey, I'm not even good with swords or weapons. All I have are these fists."

He held them up—still bruised from the recent clash.

"If either of you fought me using proper weapons… you might actually give me a rough time."

He smirked.

"Maybe even beat me."

Jack looked at Duke.

Duke looked at Jack.

Then both turned to Drex at the same time.

"…Liar," they said in unison.

Drex just grinned.

Touka's eyes weren't on her opponent.

They were locked on Duke—his glowing fists, that punch, the green energy.

"Hey! Watch here!"

WHACK!

Samaira's wooden bamboo staff came flying toward her face.

Touka snapped out of her daze and dodged just in time, the strike slicing the air inches from her cheek.

This bitch knows exactly what she's doing, Touka thought, lips tightening.

Samaira spun the bamboo around with ease, twirling it like a dance.

"Focus on me, Touka," she smirked. "Or else you're gonna get hurt~"

Bitch, Touka growled inwardly.

Calm down. Don't lose focus over an idiot like him…

But Samaira was already moving.

She charged, swinging her staff like a madwoman—fast and aggressive.

Touka's eyes snapped wide open, grip tightening on her wooden sword.

CLACK—CRACK!

The weapons collided with force.

Samaira pushed forward relentlessly, her strikes wild but calculated. "C'mon, warrior girl! Don't space out now!"

Touka gritted her teeth, blocking again and again.

She could feel it—Samaira was pressing her.

Trying to provoke her.

And… it was working.

DING! DING!

The bell rang out of nowhere.

Samaira blinked mid-swing. "What?? Our session's not even finished."

"Must be an important announcement," Touka muttered, lowering her wooden sword.

"I think so too," said Duke, walking over and wiping sweat from his brow.

Soon, all thirty recruits of Class A gathered in the training courtyard.

Not just them—Class B and C recruits were there as well.

A wave of murmurs filled the air.

Miss Violet stood silently near the stage, her usual calm expression unreadable.

Several fully armored soldiers lined up behind her—each standing tall and still as stone.

Then—

Head Instructor Cladwill stepped forward, boots echoing against the stone floor.

Silence fell instantly.

Cladwill stood at the center of the stage, arms crossed behind his back.

"You've all been training here for over two months in the training camps of stromspires and two weeks," he began, his voice deep and commanding.

"In the fortress. In the Void Room. Under fire."

He scanned the crowd.

"If you're in Class A… then you're already at soldier level. That's not an opinion. It's a fact. I've been impressed by your progress. Some of you have already awakened your Kendra Energy. Others have begun controlling it."

A few eyes shifted in pride—others in silent envy.

"Soon," Cladwill continued, "your main teachings will begin. But before that—"

He paused.

"—you will receive your first real assignment."

A wave of murmuring rippled through the recruits.

"First mission?" Duke whispered under his breath.

"Finally… it's time, baby," Vairan grinned, eyes gleaming.

"Silence!" Cladwill barked. "Don't get excited so quickly

This mission is dangerous."

The courtyard fell quiet again.

Cladwill's voice darkened.

"Ten soldiers have disappeared. No trace. No bodies. No communication."

Gasps and whispers erupted.

"What?! Ten?!" Jack shouted, wide-eyed.

"Where?!" someone else called out.

Cladwill's gaze turned grim.

"Eastern side. Near a remote settlement… called Hollowveil Village."

The crowd grew louder, uneasy.

"Wait, isn't that the cursed village?" someone asked.

"I've heard of that place," said another. "Haunted, right? That's where they say the souls of the dead never left…"

"Yeah," Jack added, voice tense. "Wasn't there some mining disaster? Like… two hundred years ago?"

Cladwill nodded once.

"Yes. A natural disaster—around two hundred years ago. Entire hillsides collapsed after weeks of tremors. Hundreds of people died."

He looked across the courtyard.

"Superstition says their souls never left. That the village is cursed. But we deal in facts, not bedtime stories."

He let the silence sit before continuing.

"Your mission: investigate the disappearances. Search for the lost soldiers. Recover what intel you can."

All noise stopped.

"You won't go alone," Cladwill added.

"Trained soldiers will accompany you. And leading the operation—"

He motioned to his side.

"—Captain Violet Smith, of Squad 6."

Violet stepped forward, expression unreadable.

"I've already split you into groups," she said. "You'll be briefed shortly."

2 weeks earlier on the day of Hollowveil incident

At the foot of the mountain, where the villagers had buried the fallen soldiers beneath loose soil and stone…

The earth began to stir.

A faint shift. Then—

CRACK.

A dirt-covered hand burst free, trembling and bloodied.

Moments later, Rhett clawed his way up from the shallow grave, gasping for air.

"Ghh—AHH!"

His chest was torn open—a deep gash still oozing blood, barely held together by thin threads of green Kendra light crackling along his skin.

"H-Holy hell…" he coughed, spitting blood into the grass.

He rolled onto his side, panting. His vision blurred, pain screaming through every nerve.

"I… I should be dead," he muttered. "That slash… went clean through my ribs…"

He pressed a shaking palm to his wound. The dark blue Kendra energy flared weakly beneath his skin, trying to stitch flesh back together—but it was slow. Too slow.

"Come on… hold… just hold…"

He winced again, falling to his knees.

"I have to warn them. Bastionspire needs to know what's happening here…"

He looked over his shoulder—back toward the distant cave lights, faint and flickering in the misty dark. The sound of mining still echoed.

"…They're using the village," he whispered. "The monk… those assassins… and that bastard in gold…"

A wave of dizziness hit him.

He fell forward, bracing himself with both hands in the dirt.

"Damn it… if the villagers find me before I move—I'm finished…"

He coughed again—this time blood poured into his hand.

"…I don't even know if I'll survive the next hour…"

But still—

He rose.

Barely standing.

Covered in blood, dirt, and raw desperation.

Rhett took one painful step forward… then another.

Toward the forest.

Toward the Fortress.

Toward hope.

To be continued